Paper Faces On Parade
by bartagnans
Summary: In her presence, it had been a mistake to remove his mask.


_A simple, mediocre drabble set during one of my favourite scenes in episode seven - just my take on those moments between dialogue. Please read, review and enjoy._

 _Title prompt: "Masquerade" from Phantom Of The Opera_

 _Disclaimer: Nothing, I own._

* * *

 **PAPER FACES ON PARADE**

* * *

" _Hide your face  
So the world will  
Never find you."_

* * *

The Force was strong with her, that much she knew. But it wasn't the conspicuous feeling; that familiar itch that told her what he was thinking.

No, not the Force - his eyes. They'd betrayed him and she could see everything.

 _I see you_ , she'd challenged with her own. She couldn't be certain if he'd heard it but she wouldn't trust her voice to say the words; not through the pain that they shared in that endless moment.

He told her not to be afraid, that he could feel it too. Initially, she didn't happen to believe him. That it was simply a cruel tactic to persuade her to relax, to relent and to let him in. That was until he came close enough to allow her to see him; to find him behind the mask he'd so foolishly removed; baring himself to her scrutiny.

Perhaps he's the one who should be afraid.

He is alone and terrified. And it's so exhausting to be frightened, they agreed. However, despite that very real desire to sleep and to embrace the rest that slumber would bring, neither of them could claim they got much of either.

 _Sleep never did come easy._

Their eyes met in surprise, for neither knew from whose mind the thought had sprung, but that it didn't seem to matter because, in this too, they agreed.

Although the similarities, those fellow-felt agonies were difficult to ignore, it was those subtle differences that compelled both of them to delve further into the chasm of each other's subconscious.

For Rey, he found, she fought the urge to close her eyes in the concern that she might miss the passing of something; someone. Those who had hindered her chance at living as one should. The same someone who she knew had never intended to return. And yet, she still has faith and hope that they might, the latter of which was a very dangerous thing to lose: the proof standing before her.

For him however, it was perhaps the opposite. In sleep, he'd find that which he sought to avoid in the waking hours. The pull towards the Light was constant but one he was able to circumvent with necessary amounts of energy. At night, when he was too exhausted to stand, the lethargy draining him of what precious power he required in order to ignore that from which he was born.

He saw it, felt it in her too. It was strong and it called to him, beckoning him to let go; to fall to his knees in front her and to give in to this woman who he'd so suddenly stumbled upon by the secret will of the Force. And although she was fighting him with a ferocity to rival the menace of his master, she is golden and warm; bright and beautiful - the essence of benediction.

And he is but a shadow - a dark spectre of someone he might've been.

His resolve tightened and she fought with a presently growing ability to match his own. It could very well be the reason he struggled to maintain the upper hand.

Then, upon her mention of Vader, he severed the link, shying away from her hateful gaze and the threat she posed to his pursuit into the Dark.

Silence swelled between them for a moment longer than it ought to. The pain in his eyes is crippling and she wonders if it's what others saw in her.

He considered letting her go. After all, he wasn't getting anywhere beyond her determination to lock him out and she certainly wasn't going to tell him anything if he asked nicely.

In spite of all that he was taught, he didn't want to kill her and that's precisely what would've happened had he obeyed orders to bring er before Snoke.

When he finds the cell empty upon his return, he unsheathed his saber and the rage he felt with it.

Days later, following her escape and his momentary defeat, he couldn't admit it hadn't been anger, but rather an overwhelming sense of regret that she'd slipped away from him. He couldn't quite understand why he was drawn to her, compelled by the kindred spirit they found in that shared loneliness.

Could it be that whatever she'd seen in him had called to her as well?

Meanwhile, elsewhere in another galaxy, Rey gave the Falcon's reigns to Chewie and excused herself to rest for a while.

Although she'd given away little, if anything, regarding Skywalker's whereabouts during Kylo Ren's interrogation, it was he who had divulged information that was better left in secret.

Unwillingly, he'd proved to her that he spoke the truth, that he did indeed feel what she was feeling. She wasn't alone anymore. Not in a way it mattered but in a way that made some small measure of a difference to how well she slept.

It was terrifying and downright ridiculous to find solace in the knowledge that he, a Sith Lord wannabe, could empathise with her deepest, most painful sorrows with a capacity that no one before him had shown. But she'd seen him as he was behind that mask of falsehood. She saw a child: a young boy with dark curls and an eager heart, one frightened to disappoint his father and his mentor. Instead, with a fading hope for triumph and the corruption of an evil tyrant, he killed the former and hunted the latter.

How could it be that she was drawn to him, this monster he was allowing himself to become?

She had far more questions than answers at this point.

 _I know you're there,_ she sighed deep into the void _,_ hoping for silence in response.

Not a moment passed before a familiar, conspicuous nudge shattered those hopes and confirmed that he had been listening.


End file.
